


The Bitter Spoils

by heroe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroe/pseuds/heroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even victory can bring defeat. Alternate universe. Warning: Dark, character death. WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bitter Spoils

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is (c) J.K. Rowling and various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books in association with Warner Bros. Entertainment.

_**Present Day** _

There was a distinct chill in the air, the temperature so biting that Draco Malfoy did not think he would ever be warm again. He was uncertain whether to credit the brutal cold to Azkaban's foul guard, hooded wraith-like beings that fed on the remnants of happiness and only offered despair in return, or to the fact that it was mid-winter in the North Sea and such a climate was simply to be expected. It was possibly a combination of both.

As if the guard and frigidity were not bad enough, the prison was steeped in filth and carried an overpowering stench that seemed to bleed into his very pores. There was not a single, pleasurable aspect to be found within the nigh impenetrable complex, which forebodingly swayed in concert with the gales from a presently raging storm. His stomach felt as though it was about to pitch at the discomfiting sensory overload.

"It's time," a calm voice broke through his concentrated unease.

Draco peered between the cell bars at the solemn and fragile form of Hermione Granger. The war had not been kind to her, he grimly noted. She was pale, gaunt and sallow-eyed. Her distinctively bushy hair was no more, having been haphazardly shaven for the sake of convenience, and a jagged scar now marred the right side of her once moderately pretty face. She was almost unrecognizable.

Indeed, the war had not been kind to his previous schoolmate. In truth, it had not been kind to any of them; the victorious or the vanquished.

Draco took a fortifying breath in preparation for what was to come. He was determined to not shame himself in front of Granger during these final moments. She had seen him play the fool on one too many occasions for his liking. He would not let her last memory of him, however fleeting, be that of a coward filled with regret. He had made his choices, wrong though they might have been, and he would stand by them until the bitter end.

"Yes," he quietly acknowledged, throat unreasonably tight.

With a groan of protest, the iron rod door gave way. He then witnessed Granger proudly rise, barefooted and in tattered garb, to steadily approach. Though weak from neglect, she did not waver. Her bearing was of unimaginable courage and strength. Even in appalling dishabille and confronted by insurmountable odds, she demonstrated a rare grace that the purest of witches would have committed an unforgivable to possess.

The enviable comport was wasted on someone with such dirty blood, his inner supremacist decried.

"Take care, Draco," she said with a wan, albeit sincere, smile when passing...

…and therein lie his defeat.

He could do nothing but cravenly look away as the girl he had grown up with, capable of showing charity in the face of cruelty, bravely moved forward to meet her fate. One that was sealed with a kiss.

 


End file.
